Hello my lovely readers! :) I'm sorry it's been so long that I've updated! I'm here now, though, no worries. I hope you didn't mind the wait for this chapter! It's my longest so far, and I'm really proud of it. I have to thank my beta for boosting my confidence, the amazing KH – Akyra! She is superb and always supportive. I really value you! :)
There are a few things I must mention before this AN is over. The first is the dream interpretation. That is not my thinking. The interpretation is actually from . I'm not saying the interpretation is mine because it isn't, I only have the minimal amount used in this chapter with permission from the website.
The second is all about you. What would you readers like to see happening in this story? I have a plan and an outline for this story, but I'd love to have each of you incorporated in some way. Tell me your ideas in a review or a PM, whichever, and I'll look them over. That would be fun. I want to use this as a thank you for all your support, which I love immensely. :D
Thanks again, all of you, for motivating me and loving my story! I couldn't thank you enough. Enjoy this next chapter! :)
Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound of my bare feet hitting the ground was deafening. Laboured breathing matched with the agonizing fear I felt made it a struggle to continue, but I had to keep going. I had to push myself farther than ever before.
Any less movement and I would be dead.
I coughed, the force enough to rack my body into shudders. An owl hooted in the distance, and I jumped, running faster. The dead of night surrounded me; windowless black skyscrapers matched the black pavement and black sky overhead, starless.
I would've felt alone in this dark hole, but I knew I was being followed. In a frenzy, I looked over my shoulder, nearly tripping. I ran even faster, going nearly to my boiling point. Sweat dripped down my face and I took a random turn, trapped in an endless maze. I was lost forever.
The demon chasing me was far from tiring; my fear was his energy. I shuddered again at the thought, then cursed myself. He was gaining quickly and I was losing speed. I was desperate for a street sign anywhere, anything to show me that this wasn't the inevitable end. I turned again, running harder. My foot jabbed hard against something sharp, possibly a nail or broken glass, but I pushed on. Stopping was deadly.
Tricking him would be careless and stupid, because no one outsmarts Death. The owl hooted again, shouting my name: "Clare!" it yelled in warning. "Pick it up, Clare! You're going to lose!"
My jaw clenched and I hiccuped, pushing through the pain in my chest. Death was ghosting closer; his cool grip moments from overtaking me. Suddenly, I was pushed against a wall. Death had closed in on me. His hand met my chin, and he gripped hard.
"Silly Clare," he murmured. His unoccupied hand snaked down and curled around my waist, pulling us close. His lips connected with my neck, and I squirmed, letting out a terrifying scream. Death grinned, and his teeth grew as my fear escalated. He tightened his grip on my body, and I was at his mercy. One sharp pull to the left from his hand, and my neck would snap.
His lips pulled back, and his teeth gleamed, white contrasting against the overwhelming blackness. Slowly, slowly, his teeth broke my skin. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. He dug his teeth in deeper, a low laugh escaping from the back of his throat. He had me now. His teeth sank so deep, and I was losing so much blood...
The blood pooled where he bit me, and Death eagerly lapped it up. He pulled back, his hold still tight, watching me shake. I craned my neck away from him while I had the chance, and bowed my head, my wound large, gaping, and throbbing.
"Please," I whispered, the pain nearly unbearable. My chest heaved with the effort of speaking. "Give me more time," I begged. "I need time, I'm so young..."
His voice was deep as he replied. "You started this, Clare. It was your decision." Death swooped again, this time clawing at my stomach. He tore through my shirt and my ribs screamed in protest. My eyes clamped shut and my body shivered; I tried pulling away, but he yanked me back in.
"Why are you doing this?" I cried. "Why not kill me quickly?"
Death laughed, throaty and heartfelt. "Because, Clare," he said, his fingers teasing up my leg, twisting in my hair, "this is what you wanted."
He grinned, daring me to look him in the eyes. "Death come quickly, right?" Still managing to pin me, his hands found their way to my face. I breathed heavily, fighting to stay alive just that much longer. My eyes finally met his; they were black, hollow. He caressed my cheek, being anything but loving. Wiping away my tears, he smiled again.
"Oh, Clare. You make it almost too easy." Death's fingers laced around my chin with a strong grip. His eyes gleamed, and I realized he loved his job. I anticipated his next move and tried to stop him, but he was too quick. His grip tightened, and it was effortless.
Snap.
I bolted up in bed abruptly, my breathing erratic and my hands shaking. I looked around cautiously, nearly expecting the dark, ominous black world. Thankfully, I saw my comfortable room; sky blue walls, feathery curtains, and a mahogany floor.
It was only a dream, I told myself. I tried to slow my breathing. Anxious still, I raised an arm and felt at my neck. Nothing. My hands slid to my stomach; carefully, I pulled my nightshirt up. My stomach, though bulgy, was creamy white and there were no lacerations in sight. Heaving a sigh, I fell back on my pillows.
"It was only a dream," I mumbled. I curled around my pillow, clutching it to my body for comfort. I tried relaxing, but the dream stuck in my mind, fighting me. I couldn't help but be confused. Why would I dream about dying, especially in such a way? Was it because of my parent's separation, or was it something deeper? My mind was whirling.
At dance a few weeks ago, Chelsie was telling the other two in our class about a website she constantly visited that interpreted the meaning of her dreams. When I tried to join in the conversation, I was ignored yet again, but the website stuck despite my attempts to forget the cruel memory. I got out of bed, rushing down the stairs and through the kitchen to the family computer. No one else seemed to be up, so the computer was free.
I logged in, then Google searched "dreams." Immediately, I found Chelsie's website. Scanning through, I found "death" among the definitions for dreams:
To dream that you die in your dream symbolizes inner changes, transformation, self-discovery and positive development that is happening within you or your life. You are undergoing a transitional phase. Although such a dream may bring about feelings of fear and anxiety, it is no cause for alarm. Dreams of experiencing your own death usually means that big changes are ahead for you. You are moving on to new beginnings and leaving the past behind. These changes does not necessarily imply a negative turn of events. Metaphorically, dying can be seen as an end or a termination to your old ways and habits. So, dying does not always mean a physical death, but an ending of something.
I sat back after I finished reading, a grin spread upon my face. This opened a whole world for me; this proved I was doing the right thing. Big changes? I knew what that meant. My dream no longer frightened me. Although it was definitely strange, the dream was positive. After my mess-up with the hot chocolate last night, this was the turning point, the motivation that I needed. I was pushing through the tough times to have the best results in the end.
I pulled my shirt up again, glancing at my stomach. It bulged and poked out, but it wouldn't for much longer. I was going to win this battle, no matter what. I was ready.
"Clare?" My mother's voice, though drifting softly from nearby, startled me and I jumped from the computer desk. "Clare, honey, are you downstairs?"
"Over here," I called. I quickly closed out of the browser window, fumbling slightly, until Mom came into sight.
"Honey, what are you doing up so early?" Mom's graying hair was splayed every which way and her plaid nightgown was wrinkled from being slept on. Her face displayed her mood: sleepy yet curious. She seemed to forget about what happened last night. Or maybe she just didn't want to address it.
"Mom, it's ten am. I have to go get ready for church. I was just on the computer for a moment." I tried slipping past her, but she held me back with a swift hand movement.
"Clare...You know that we're not going to church today, right? I know that you haven't packed yet; you need to get a move on if we want to leave by noon."
"What?" I exclaimed. "Mom, church will be the only routine I have left after the move! Caroline and I will be separated, I'm leaving my friends at Bardell, everything will be gone!"
"Degrassi has better opportunities. Besides, you're overreacting, honey! We're just moving out of the district. In reality, your friends will still be there, and so will the church. And, you'll still have dance class!"
"But I'll never see my friends!" I said, voice rising. "They won't want to come over anymore; I haven't told them anything and they're still suspecting you and Dad are getting divorced!" I choked on my words, staring at the floor to prevent the tears.
"Raina and Eloise will understand. You'll still get to see them," Mom said. "When you're here, that is. Get to packing!" she repeated. "I think you'll love it at my place."
"You can't make me go!" I almost wanted a repeat of last night's fight, just to show her how determined I was, but the look she gave me shut me up.
"I let you leave last night to cool off, to grasp what was really happening. But now you need to follow my orders, Clare. You're not allowed to mouth off anymore...this is real. Now, go get ready."
I sighed, wanting to win but already feeling defeated. I trudged up the stairs to my room, each step like a thundering weight I now had to bear on my shoulders. The happiness I felt from my dream meaning left, flying away like wind.
Mom was wrong. My life was going to be completely different now that I was changing schools, that her and Dad were separating. Changing schools in the middle of the semester was risky; I'd have to start nearly all over to keep up if the schools ran on different schedules.
If I wasn't already upset enough, I had Caroline to fret over. I loved my dad, but he wasn't the best parent. Mom was usually the one who planned our school bake sales, came to every dance performance, and cheered Caroline and I on in whatever activity we decided we liked at that time. All through the years, it was always Mom. With Dad and his drinking, I was so worried about the well being of Caroline, it made me physically sick.
I took it upon myself to uphold a mainly cheery disposition despite the circumstances. I had to, if I wanted to stay positive for Caroline and set a good example. I had to for myself. But it would be so much harder now, couldn't my mom see that? With my parents' marital problems, I had problems. It was that much more difficult to be happy each day. Every time my house felt less like a home, I would dance and my parents would fade, if only for a moment. I could be happy again.
But what was that now? My dancing was a joke, according to both my teacher and the girls I had danced with for months. I was proud of myself when I danced, I felt alive, and now I had nothing. Happiness was a distant thing, now impossible to achieve.
But thena voice in my head spoke to me. Lose the weight, and be happy...
I sighed, trembling. I wouldn't give up; I would lose as much weight as I needed to in order to be able to dance well, to please Miss Amanda. That was the goal from now on.
"Hurry, Clare! I'm making breakfast and it will be ready soon. Chop, chop!" Mom called from downstairs. I sighed, resigned. As I packed, my mind drifted, already anticipating my new life. Didn't Degrassi have a uniform system? And cell phone jammers? I wouldn't even be able to text my mom if I needed her for something. Tears burned in my eyes, hot as lava but unwilling to spew out of the volcano. I felt my heart beat heavily in my chest, the struggle to fully realize what Degrassi was going to be like too overwhelming for it to handle.
I folded my clothes into neat pile, packing them in my suitcase from my dresser. I whipped shirt after shirt, a few pairs of jeans, and some blouses into the suitcases, before transferring to my closet. Folding and packing the clothes was relaxing, helping me get my mind off the move, Degrassi, and my weight. What an oxymoron.
Soon, the smell of cinnamon French toast and bacon wafted up from the kitchen, making my mouth water. I clenched my eyes shut, nearly giving in, but I held my breath.
8
9
10
I breathed out raggedly, finished packing and dragged my suitcases downstairs. Mom was slaving over breakfast in the kitchen; in the time that I was upstairs packing, she had already changed into a warm jacket and jeans, preparing for the winter weather outside. Steam rose and the food crackled loudly as she cooked it, pushing her damp hair away from her face.
The scent of every food from my favorite breakfast drifted in my direction: the French toast and bacon, sausage, eggs, pancakes. Mom was making a deliciously tantalizing feast and I was already finding it hard to resist.
How would I be able to keep up my own diet if one whiff of food sent me in a whirl? I sat at the kitchen table, the farthest seat from the stove, wanting what I could not have yet again. I had to be determined, I had to win...
Mom soon finished cooking and set a heaping plate of my favorite foods in front of me. I swallowed, blinking rapidly and trying to get a grip on my breathing. This was so hard; I wanted to give in and eat so much already, and it was really only day one of my diet. The taunt of food was embarrassing...I felt more fat than I ever had before.
I needed food. I wanted food. But I couldn't give in. I gripped the table, nearly splitting it in two, desperate to win this battle.
"Clare, honey? Are you okay? You haven't touched a thing on your plate." Mom finally spoke, her voice airy and distant. I was in this dream state, only surrounded by food, the cleverly enticing enemy.
"Clare!" It was Mom again, louder. I jolted, now in harsh reality, and turned to her.
"Yes?" I asked delicately. I licked my lips, drumming my fingers on the table in an attempt to forget the food.
Mom, seated next to me, furrowed her brows in worry. "Aren't you hungry? I made all your favorites because we have such a big day ahead of us."
I looked down at the food on my plate. If Mom was right I knew that my body, so used to food, wouldn't be able to unpack everything and move all around the new house on an empty stomach. I grabbed the fork and knife Mom had brought me with my food and began to cut it into pieces. With each stroke of the knife, the pancake got smaller and smaller, nearly acceptable to eat. Once a piece was the size of my fingernail, I scooped it up with my fork and popped it into my mouth.
It was still warm...but I swallowed quickly. I knew that if I enjoyed it too much, I wouldn't be able to stop eating. And eating was the enemy.
I could feel Mom's curious gaze watching me as I cut smaller and smaller pieces of the eggs, French toast, and sausage. Carefully, I ate one small piece of each, pretending to eat more but really slipping it down my sleeve with every other bite.
If I was caught, punishment would be lethal.
"Clare." Mom said harshly. I jumped. "Do you not enjoy the food I made for you? Normally, you'd be asking for seconds." I cringed, hating the reminder. Suddenly, Caroline came bounding down the stairs, yawning and her long brown hair flying. I grinned. Caroline was my saving grace.
"I was just cutting it into pieces for when Caroline came downstairs, Mom. You know she can't eat such big pieces, and it seemed like you only made enough for us."
"Well," Mom began. "I didn't think she was going to wake up this early. I thought maybe she'd fix herself some cereal." Mom pursed her lips as Caroline crawled into her lap, squeezing her in a hug before helping herself to my plate. Mom ruffled Caroline's hair as she ate, her eyes sad.
I was so confused. She was eager to leave, but wanted to stay with Caroline? She couldn't make up her mind.
"We don't have to go," I blurted, hopeful. Mom looked up at me, those sad eyes ever-present.
"It's way past the point of making that decision, Clare. " Her voice was firm, and I closed my eyes, chiding myself for being hopeful. Being together was better than running away from the problem, couldn't she see?
I stood from the table. "Well, I'm full."
"What?" Mom was flabbergasted. "You hardly touched your food."
"I had some cereal before you woke up," I lied easily.
"You can have the rest before you go, Clare!" Caroline grinned, mouth full of sausage. "We can trade! I think I've had enough Lucky Charms for now."
I smiled. "Thanks, Little C."
She gulped down the food, unknowingly mocking me at how easily she could eat. "When will you and Mom come back for a visit?"
Mom stiffened. "Well, Caroline..."
"I'll come whenever I can," I interrupted. "Mom's probably going to busy with her new-"
"Job," Mom interjected. The word "boyfriend" caught in my throat.
"Job?" I repeated, cocking my head to the side. Mom nodded, giving me a look that said "Later."
"I figured if I'm going be upholding a house by myself, I need to make an income to support Clare and myself," she told Caroline.
Caroline looked confused at our interjecting conversation. "But you'll both visit a lot, right? Like once a week?"
"I don't know if visiting that often is going to be a possibility," Mom said softly.
Caroline's smile drooped and her chin trembled. "What? Why?"
"Our lives are turning around," I said bleakly. "Nothing will be the same. But I will do my best to come see you when I'm not busy with homework or something, okay?"
Caroline nodded. "I guess that's okay." She stood from her perch on Mom's lap and ran to me, throwing her arms around me. "I'm going to miss you so, so much, Big C."
I felt tears prick at my eyes again. How could my feelings be so off? I was sad about my family, yet determined about my weight. I needed to focus; as soon as I lost weight, my family would be happier with me, and maybe everything would go back to normal.
We would be together again.
I held her at her shoulders, moving her so I could look in the eyes. "I will come back whenever I can, okay? And things will change, and we'll be happy, all right?" She nodded weakly and I pulled her to me in the biggest hug I had ever given her. Mom cleared her throat and we let go of each other. In the midst of our hug, she had cleared the table.
"Ready, Clare?" She asked. My body shook with the onslaught of tears and I felt powerless. I nodded, grabbing my suitcases and walked toward the door. Mom grabbed Caroline and swung her in the air; she giggled, glad to be in Mom's arms. I felt six again just by looking at them.
"I'll miss you, Mommy," Caroline said softly, whispering in her ear. She clutched at her shoulders, unwilling to let go. Mom's face crumpled, and for a moment I could see behind her tough exterior. She was just as miserable to leave as I was, but she knew she couldn't stay any longer.
The heavy anguish on her feminine features tore my heart to shreds. Did she really want to break us apart, to ruin our family? I knew the answer: no. But she felt she needed to, to save herself from an unhappy marriage. Mom stayed with Dad for so long, begging him to change, and when he didn't...she couldn't handle it anymore.
Mom wasn't the bad guy. She was just another victim.
"I'll miss you too, Caroline," Mom mumbled, her voice breaking. She swiftly lowered her to the ground and pulled her into a hug before patting her on the back. "Head back up to bed, all right? Wait for Daddy to come and wake you up for the day." Caroline nodded and turned, dashing back up the stairs. I gazed after her sadly, wishing she could come with us. But I knew she couldn't. Dad needed some companionship besides his old car, otherwise he'd go even more insane. Caroline needed the consistency, or what little she could have left. Yet, Mom was still planning to take her with us too, once she got used to it.
Our family was in terrible, raggedy condition. I just couldn't wait to get back on track.
"Ready, Clare?" Mom asked, turning to me. I saw her discretely try to wipe at her eyes.
I sighed. "As ready as I'll ever be." We headed out of our house, forward march, and into our new lives.
Into a world of changes.
